Inconvenient Encounters
by madwinter12
Summary: A friendship, or perhaps more, eventually grows between a rogue prodigy and an inexperienced warrior who somehow always end up competing for the same herbs across Azeroth. Herbalism: bringing people together since Marrian put off her profession and thoroughly regretted it.
1. Chapter 1

**a/n: this'll be a serious of one-shots between two human's who continue to find each other competing for the same herbs. Marrian is an actual character of mine. Eventual romance...but I'm still very new to fanfiction so if the romance part doesn't end up working out, i'll change that. please review! **

Chapter One: Peacebloom

Marrian had little patience for rainy water made her armor uncomfortable and noisy, each previously nimble footstep announcing her presence with a squish. She was a rogue, dammit, and a good one- a great one, but on days like this it was twice as hard to prove it.

In addition to putting a damper on her skillset, navigating through the heavy rainfall atop a willful and currently uncooperative gryphon darkened her mood.

Marrian recalled Daven, a guildmate, who always bragged about the stability and intimidation factor that a drake provided, claiming the bronze drake that Marrian helped him get, was so much better than Truffles, her gryphon. At the moment Truffles was, admittedly, a nuisance, but Marrian had paid for and obtained him purely off her own hard work, which was more than that worthless mage could claim. Sometimes Marrian wondered why she even bothered with guilds. Even now, she could see Daven smirking down at her atop his new mount, as if it suddenly made him better than her.

If that's what he really thought than it was high time she taught him a thing or two. Reintroducing his face to the floor ought to do the trick, Marrian thought with satisfaction.

Suddenly she was eager to return to Stormwind.

But not yet.

With a huff, Marrian wiped at the raindrops tickling her forehead and pulled up the hood that'd fallen till it covered all but her eyes. An essence of mystery should always follow a rogue, her old teacher's saying floated past. It'd been ages since she'd seen him, and Marrian wondered if his old age had gotten him killed yet. You couldn't stay swift footed forever, and judging from the gray hairs Jorik had sported years ago, he was well on his way to forever.

Visiting him now was an entertaining prospect. Did he still slum it behind that cathedral, or had he upgraded to a coffin? Assuming he was alive, Marrian grinned, envisioning how awed he'd be to see how far she'd come.

"Didn't know you had it in you, girl! To think, the trainee becoming the master!" he'd exclaim after a few minutes of confusion due to him not recognizing Marrian beneath her well-earned armor.

Of course, Marrian would let him have his moment, let him pretend all she'd accomplished traced back to his meager teachings. Which, Marrian mused, they actually might. She'd never really considered to be grateful for what he'd done. After all, she'd paid for each little trick he threw her way. Back then there'd been no coffer filled with treasures and glinting gold. Not even a pocket of coins.

Well, Marrian grinned, perhaps there had been a coin or two, lifted from stranger's pockets.

These days pickpocketing wasn't technically a necessity... but what type of rogue would she be if she didn't keep all her skills up to par?

The thought was interrupted a booming cackle of thunder. Marrian jumped in her seat, and then swiftly pretended she hadn't. The storm was an annoyance, but she wasn't returning to stormwind with less than half herbs she'd come for.

Truffles, however, did not share the sentiment, and screeched indignantly over the constant patter of raindrops. Just as Marrian went to steady them both, the gryphon jerked the reins from her hands, and with a flutter of feathers, took himself and Marrian into a nose first dive towards the forest floor.

Her fighter's reflexes kicked in. "Argh! You stupid animal, no!" Marrian yelled, gripping the saddle with one hand and blindly searching for the reins with the other. But in his fright Truffles had no mind to listen, and he ignored his enraged rider. "Up! Up! Fly dammit!"

Her outraged cries were drowned out by the storm, and between her anger and the thick torrent of raindrops, Marrian didn't see the trees approach so quickly, nor the trees they were aimed for.

Bursting through the canopy, Marrian was smacked by enough branches and leaves to make her wonder if there was a malignant druid nearby. Truffles was equally unfortunate, his wings getting caught in the tree, stray feathers flying everywhere. Somewhere along the way Marrian lost her seat, and both rider and gryphon collided into the ground some feet apart.

The rogue couldn't say how far they'd fallen, but if her battered body was anything to go by, it'd been far enough. Stunned, Marrian lay in the mud, thankful her cowl took most of the rains onslaught. Her eyes squinted against the wind and heavy raindrops. Above the sky was a dense blur of gray, and the trees battled stubbornly against the wind, swaying as they were tossed to-and-fro, their leaves rustling in chaotic flurry.

A quick assessment revealed there were no serious injuries, but Marrian guessed that for the next few weeks she'd be wearing a map of purple and blue. And this was supposed to be her break too! Her guildmaster specifically told her to stay safe and rest. Here she was, two days in, and she'd fallen from the sky. Ridiculous.

Marrian cursed loudly when an upset squawk reminded her who was to blame for their undignified return to ground. She sat up to furiously face the hellish beast, intent on screaming her throat raw.

"You good-for-nothing pile of..." her words stuttered to a halt as her eyes were drawn to gentle white and yellow petals. Her jaw dropped. "No," she denied, blinking rapidly against the rain. The rogue peered through the storming forest a second time.

A few yards off, nestled between two thick oaks, a lone shoot of peacebloom danced in the whirling wind.

Forgetting Truffles, Marrian pulled herself out of the mud, shaking the brown goo from her hands as she stared in surprise. Of all the ways to find the elusive herb. For two days she'd been trekking through Elwynn forest for the herb and finding frustratingly little. Was it peacebloom hunting season or something? Because for such a common plant it certainly didn't like to be found. No wonder she'd had no time for her profession until now. If it took this long to find a handful of flowers…

The rogue shook her head in disbelief, struggling to remember why she'd chosen alchemy in the first place.

After a deep breath, Marrian pushed aside her irritation. She could yell at Truffles later. She'd just fallen through the sky and trees and she'd be damned if she did not get this one infuriating little excuse for wildlife.

Marrian trudged through the soaked forest floor to Truffles, who'd taken Marrian's distraction as a chance to attempt grooming his feathers- which Marrian found completely pointless with a storm still raging around them.

A few years ago she'd bought Truffles in a victory induced haze of pride and success, foolishly taking him for the strongest gryphon available. Then she named him Truffles of all things, the first mistake of many regarding him. Now, after having put up with the animal's erratic behavior for too long, she'd seen just how grievous a mistake choosing him had been.

Reminiscing in her mistakes, Marrian was none too gentle as searched the saddle for her things. Half certain all her belongings had been swept away during the fall, a glimmer of pleasantry appeared amidst her foul mood when she found everything safely where it was meant to be.

With her rarely used herbalist's spade in hand, the rogue was determined to dig out that particular peacebloom with a personal sense of vengeance when she spotted the vague outline of a figure in front of the two big oaks and more importantly, the peacebloom.

"Get away from that!" She yelled. Her words were lost in the storm, and the figure heard nothing but the howling wind and splashes of rain. Fuming, Marrian ran at them, scooped up a fistful of mud, cried, "You! That's my peacebloom!" and hurled the mud at their head.

Her competition whirled around. His hand protectively covered the back of his head, investigating the slimy material suddenly seeping down his neck. "Who's there?" He demanded, and removed his hand and shook his hair free of the mud. "Did you just throw mud at me?" he asked, sounding more puzzled than angry.

"That's mine!" Marrian repeated, ignoring his questions. "That peacebloom is mine!" She skid to a halt before the man, "Don't-" She stopped and peered closely at the man before her. Her eyes widened- in his hand was her peacebloom! "Hey! Who do you think you are? I said that was my plant!"

The man didn't reply, but he did pull the peacebloom to his chest.

Marrian jutted a finger towards her prize. "I said: that is my flower. Hand it over." Scrutinizing him through the rain, Marrian couldn't clearly make out his guarded expression. Unconcerned, she continued. "Well. Give it here."

"How hard did you hit your head in that fall?" He sounded wary.

"I don't know what you're blabbering on about," Marrian was quick to deny, "now give me my plant," she snapped her fingers impatiently.

"You're the one who caused that loud crash. I could hear it even above the thunder." He persisted.

"I didn't hear a thing," she lied through her teeth, "and for the last time: my peacebloom."

There was pregnant pause. "No... I don't think I will." The words were spoken cautiously and the man was studying her response.

Recognizing his pathetic armor and acknowledging that most who harvested peacebloom were mere trainees, Marrian knew she could take a novice like him. It was her's. She wasn't about to let it just walk away. If she had to fight for it, she'd fight- but from the looks of it, that wouldn't be necessary. A plan formed in her mind.

"Alright," she shrugged. "But I'll remember this," she weakly threatened.

The man frowned, his eyebrows mashed together. "I'll remember it too," and then just as a murmur, "the day a crazy woman harasses me in the forest…"

The man turned, and a grin spread across Marrian's face. Slipping behind him with ease, she swung a swift kick to the back of his knee. In a surprised huff the man fell to one knee. Taking the distraction, Marrian slithered an arm around him and effortlessly plucked the peacebloom from his hand.

Unconcerned of the bested man, she triumphantly inspected her prize, cupping it within her hands to protect it from the rain. To Marrian's disappointment, it resembled every other weed in the forest. All that for slightly rumbled flower, she thought irritably. Stuffing the troublesome peacebloom into a pocket within her armor, Marrian wondered what a mess the past days had been.

Yesterday she'd left Stormwind with a goal of three pouches full of peacebloom. From the start things had been slow going, and she'd spent the night camping somewhere along the border to Westfall. Then during the night clouds had misted over, and when Marrian woke at dawn it was already drizzling. Undeterred by a sprinkle, she'd hopped on Truffles and continued scrouging the forest for herbs. When that drizzle had transformed into a fierce storm Marrian became even more determined to get her peacebloom, refusing to be beaten by some water and wind. Now her need to endure the storm felt unnecessary- outsmarting someone for their peacebloom was equally acceptable, and Marrian was satisfied with herself.

An angry grunt returned her to the situation. The man had returned to two feet, and was glowering at her. He said nothing, perhaps knowing he was beaten.

She offered a false smile. Then she realized it was hidden behind her cowl, and decided that insincere olive branches were pointless.

"You've got some mud…" she vaguely gestured to the very leg she'd kicked.

He sneered at her.

Uninterested, Marrian began to walk away, slipping between the trees.

Behind her, something seemed to click in the man's mind as his bafflement was replaced by outrage. Even with the drowning pitter patter of rain, Marrian clearly heard him call after her,"I'll definitely remember this!" followed by a loud thud of a mail boot swiftly kicking a tree stump. His angry curses lasted a bit longer before fading.

Marrian had what she wanted, and they'd never meet again, so why care? The rain hadn't softened, if anything it was coming down harder than ever, and Marrian wanted out of this miserable weather. Minutes later, upon finding that Truffles was, of course, missing, she had to remind herself that just moments before she'd declared the day a success.

Just remember that shocked face of his, she told herself. Ha! He'd looked so stunned; he probably mistook her for some crazy ninny.

Marrian found Truffles an hour or so later. He refused to take to the skies, and Marrian couldn't entirely blame him for it. The storm had only worsened since their crash landing. So, Marrian had to lead a frightened gryphon through Elwynn forest; suffering through her soaked armor chafing her raw in unmentionable places.

When the finally reached the inn in Goldshire, Marrian was welcomed by the innkeeper with pitying eyes. The rogue knew she looked miserable, and she hated it.

"Rough day, eh little lady?" he'd joked. "You'd be wise to halt adventurin' on days like these. And by the looks of it," he chuckled, "next time you'll remember this." He smiled down at her, oozing what he probably felt was elderly wisdom.

"You'd be wise to not talk on matters you know nothing of," she growled. "I want a room, innkeeper, right now."

She took it in stride when unsurprisingly the cost for a room overnight suddenly doubled. Once in her room, she tore the wretched armor off, tossing to the floor, glad to finally be free of the leathery torment. The day was finally over. That night she slept soundly, not troubled by a single dream.


	2. Chapter 2

There were a lot of things Marrian did not like. Included on this extensive list was blood. Obviously she never shared this with anyone. A rogue who disliked blood... the irony could kill. By the shadows, Marrian could hear them talking already. _Did you hear? Afraid of blood! Hah! No good rogue gets queasy...Never believed she was as good as everyone claimed... she faints on the battlefield... all a scam!... know others three times as good...kick her pretty ass..._

She wasn't weak stomached, this rogue could handle puddles of blood and not feel uneasy. Let it rain blood, she didn't care. As long as they gave her an umbrella. That was the real reason behind her distaste for the stuff; there was no stain worse than blood. It didn't come out and the red looked horrible on anything that wasn't already red.

She wore all black for a reason.

And this newest addition to the unfortunate stain collection was one of the worst she'd seen in a while. Marrian grumbled as she removed her stained jerkin, leaving her with just a ratty old sleeveless shirt on. Already goosebumps were spreading down her arms and back. While Duskwood certainly wasn't Northrend the place still succeeded in being eerie and Marrian didn't like the idea of being around some mindless forsaken and crazed worgen with just a piece of cloth to protect her vital organs. She'd killed things hundreds of times more threatening but there was always a small chance something would go wrong...

Holding the dripping leather piece as far away from herself as Marrian could she vigorously shook the thing, trying to get all the blood out. The aggravated rogue muttered darkly when specks of flying blood landed on her face.

Eventually it looked like a sufficient amount had been removed and now the leather was no longer drenched in red; only slightly damp and discolored. Deciding this would have to do, she shook it a last time before pulling it back on.

Maybe if the sun actually shined in this damn place her vest would have a chance of drying before she died of old age.

It was all because of a stupid root and those idiot neighbors of hers. Mostly the neighbors fault actually, Marrian decided she'd rather be bested by a common cold than by an root of all things.

Her home was a nice enough place in the Old District and the perfect location for someone who needed to be near the SI:7 headquarters. Marrian never had any complaints about the place. Then her neighbors moved in. Rambunctious, rude, and the first to smile if she ever did end up dying, Marrian had always tried her best to ignore the man and his wife. If they wished to act that way then so be it. Her loathing was no secret; fingers would definitely be pointed her way if the couple _did _end up being found dead in their own home.

In the future she would try and hide her hatred, should a similar situation arise.

When the husband got sick and then quickly after the husband, Marrian's contempt was cemented. Oh but then, not only were they careless enough to let themselves fall into illness like that- they showed no attempt to try and stop it from spreading!

It made her want to throttle their selfish little throats!

They just walked along their daily lives as if they weren't a danger to everyone else. There are children running around, Marrian steamed, what type of ignorant, inconsiderate... How could they not see that disease killed just as easily as a dagger? It grated on her every last nerve. And the memories it brought up-

Marrian growled. Point being she ended up catching their damn sickness too and that was why there was blood on her shirt. If they hadn't been sick she wouldn't have caught it, and if she hadn't caught it she wouldn't have coughed mid-strike, and if she hadn't coughed just as her right dagger was skimming the worgen's neck then she wouldn't have jerked her hand at the wrong angle, and if she hadn't jerked her hand then she wouldn't have gotten herself showered in blood.

Simple really.

It was also why she was still lingering in Duskwood. Her shameful days of hunting Elwynn forest for cheap herbs were over. Everything she collected was organized into her bank slots that she'd paid a mage to enchant so the hard-earned herbs wouldn't wither and die before she could actually use them. After Elwynn she moved onto Westfall, a wretched place, and Marrian had hurried through the desolate farmland as quick as she could.

After a quick trip back to a herbalist master in a dainty corner of Stormwind Marrian had continued on to Duskwood just a week before. Her bags were brimming with grave moss and kingsblood and the occasionally plant she thought might be a herb but could possibly just be exotic weeds.

She had grown familiar with the herbs in the area otherwise and new it was time to move down to Stranglethorne. She'd had some good times in Booty Bay. It might not be so bad to visit again.

Ideally she'd be making her way there now. But Marrian didn't feel comfortable traveling too far from Stormwind and all it's proficient healers while still recovering from her cold.

When Marrian first discovered it was festering inside her she took a handful of days to relax and get better. She was practically healthy again, but Marrian had a deep respect for disease of any sort.

When Marrian finally made her way back to the dimly lit path it dawned on her that perhaps her fear of disease was the exact reason she'd chosen alchemy. Disease were not something to underestimate, and Marrian was never one for making the same mistakes twice.

After an hour of traveling at a maddeningly slow pace Marrian was reconsidering leaving Truffles behind in Stormwind. There was always a chance that the gryphon was as susceptible to her cold as the next person, if not more, and she hadn't dared risk it. For now she was doing her best to quarantine herself from others.

Just because she didn't want anyone else getting sick didn't mean she'd spend a night alone in this forest. Darkshire wasn't more than an hour or two away by now, and if she pulled her cowl up and kept to her room then that more than anyone else would bother doing.

The distant sound of hoof beats reached the rogue's ears. The darkly clad woman paused to listen closer. After a moment she confirmed that someone was approaching from behind her on the road. She turned around and as expected she faintly saw the growing outline of a rider and horse.

Quick as a shadow Marrian slipped off the road and distanced herself from the lantern post across the path. She stilled beside a tree. Her waiting didn't last long; the hoof beats were far louder by now. Her hands were ghosting over the daggers at her waist when rider and horse flew past, completely unaware of the woman in the bushes.

There were only a few seconds of good view but that was all Marrian needed. They were Alliance, or to be exact, he was also a human. A warrior perhaps.

Few would hide from their own faction, but Marrian like most and could list plenty of reasons why sharing a common tabard or race was an insufficient reason to trust a stranger. The world was filled with traitors, rapists, murders, and thieves like herself.

It took her another hour to reach Darkshire. An hour in sticky armor traveling a distance on foot that on horse would take far less time was enough to make Marrian bitter and tired.

The town 'square', if one wished to call it that, was deserted but for a few horses, stray chickens likely to meet their doom during the night if left unattended much longer, and a single watchman leaning against a house wall with a torch in hand. The rogue expected nothing else. Darkshire had always been a dismal and morbid little village, and what time she had spent here year ago was thankfully behind her.

Or it would be, if she had bothered to collect herbs then instead of now.

Scowling, Marrian passed by the horses, heading the direction she remembered the inn to be. An inn was an inn was an inn. During her travels Marrian had discovered that no matter how far you traveled each inn was the same. The consistency was disconcerting, not to mention unimpressive. Occasionally the food would vary, for better or worse, but that, along with the individuals who inhabited each inn.

As she trudged towards the door, her mind was wholly on how warm her bed would be and how nice it would be to get out of the filthy armor.

So deep in thought, she didn't even think to give the unruly horse a sufficient amount of space. Her cynical hopes for sleep were interrupted by the harsh swish of air and the stinging sensation spreading across her neck and face.

Furiously rubbing away the sting on her cheek, Marrian turned toward the horse who's tail had whipped her. Coincidentally, it was the one she'd seen ride past her earlier that day.

She glared at the black horse rump, channeling all her frustration into it. The stupid beast didn't notice of course, and Marrian huffed. Fighting a horse who didn't care to fight back quickly lost it's luster.

Marrian stomped inside the inn the commanded the innkeeper, "Your finest room. Now."

Thankfully the man had some wits about him and didn't argue. "That'll be 10 gold, miss."

"10! For this shit hole? I'll give you 2, and you'll be lucky to have it!"

"10 gold, miss."

She pounded a fist on the counter. "What do you think this is, Stormwind's finest? Two, or nothing at all!"

"10 gold miss, or you can sleep outside with the horses."

How dare he! Marrian took it back. This man was a fucking idiot! "_Sleep with the- _Why you-" She grabbed him by the collar and yanked him across the counter and down to her face. He was taller but she was stronger. "The room. Now. Before I lost what few morals I have."

Marrian admired her work when the innkeeper startled looking satisfyingly persuaded when-

"You again?!"

Frowning, Marrian narrowed her eyes at the innkeepers face. His lips hadn't moved. In fact, that voice sounded vaguely familiar...


	3. Chapter 3

**A/n: been a while since I wrote anything for this story. I'm beginning to like it more than Human from Earth though, that fic is giving me headaches. For those who forgot where this story was, Marrian was in the Duskwood inn. a familiar voice just interrupted her bullying. **

Chapter 3:

She scanned the crowd for the speaker, her eyes landing on a young man. Her head tilted as she inspected him. Tall, strong build, warrior's armor, brown hair, dismayed expression…

She released the innkeeper, who stumbled back at his sudden freedom.

Regarding the brown haired warrior she tested out his previous words, "Me again?"

"You've forgotten!" He exclaimed. He gawked at her like he couldn't believe it.

Marrian didn't understand why he looked so offended. Looking back to her recent jobs, she wondered if she'd stolen something from him. She didn't think so, it'd been ages since she botched a job.

"What did I-" The question went unfinished when she realized she didn't care. Shrugging, she waved the man away, and arched an eyebrow at the innkeeper, "my room," and waited for the key to drop into her outstretched hand.

Clutching the room key, she intended to head straight upstairs and sleep. Before a she had crossed the room, though, the rogue's path was blocked by the warrior. He steaming with indignation after being brushed aside.

Up close, he was definitely a bit older than her. That meant little though, Marrian had bested people with twice her age and experience before. She was prepared to do it again right now, but she was tired, and fighting in her exhausted state didn't appeal much.

Her face tightened, free hand ghosting over the dagger at her side. She snapped, "What?"

He didn't respond to her hostility in kind. In fact, he snorted, suddenly backing down and smiling in exasperation. Marrian didn't get it, that's not how he was supposed to react.

"You know what," he was amused. "Forgot it. I'm never seeing you again. It doesn't even matter."

Marrian watched him melt back into the crowd. Too tired to puzzle out what just happened, she turned her thoughts towards rest.

The next day Marrian left the inn the morning rush. She slipped out while the innkeeper wasn't looking, saving her the gold she never paid him with.

Outside the town was alive. Sort of. The night before it'd been as eerie and dead as the rest of the scourge-infested forest. But with the sun out for once, and Marrian feeling well rested and rather satisfied with herself it was a good day. Today she would return to Stormwind, put the herbs she'd so painstakingly collected on the market, and rest at home for a day or two.

As she exited the inn, a horse and rider caught her attention. Recognition hit her twice. She could still feel that horse's tail whipping across her cheek. Stupid beast. And the rider, currently combing his fingers through his friend's mane, was unmistakably the man from yesterday.

She frowned. Was this the pair who'd she'd hidden from on the road? She was still considering when, probably feeling the weight of her stare, the man turned and met her eye.

His peaceful smiled fell, and Marrian's frown deepened into a scowl. She switched directions, mind on the night before. The warrior watched her approach for a second before turning back to his horse, adjusting the saddle.

"Hey." She stopped before him. "What were you talking about?"

Marrian watched his hands still on the horse's back. He rolled his shoulders back. She couldn't see his face when he spoke, hands resuming their ministrations. "I don't know. What are you talking about?"

The horse flicked a fly from it's tail, and Marrian side-stepped, remembering the last time she'd stood too close to the black monstrosity.

She sneered at it while he wasn't looking, "You know what I meant. I want you to tell me what I've apparently forgotten." Her tone implied her doubt. If it was important she wouldn't have forgotten it.

The man glanced at her thoughtfully. He swung himself up onto his horse, and Marrian glowered at the sudden height difference.

Looking down at her - Marrian doing her best to stare defiantly back- he informed her, "It was nothing really. I am surprised you forgot it though."

"What? You keep saying I forgot something, stop that! I haven't forgotten anything!"

"You going to stab me over it?"

"Huh?" She became aware of her hands gripping the hilts of both daggers. One quick movement and she could have one of them lodged a few inches into his chest. The rogue dropped her hands. Scornfully, "No."  
Her looked sincerely relieved, and Marrian felt the sudden need to defend herself. "I don't just stab people for the fun of it."

"Really."

"No, I don't." She hated that he didn't believe her. Seeing his expression, the rogue scowled even deeper. "Just leave me alone," she hissed. "I don't have time to waste talking to you."

She stalked towards the flight master. When she glanced back, he was looking at her.

* * *

Other than less intimidating, Stranglethorn was the same: muggy and gorgeously alive. Last time she'd been here she had just begun her training, a gangly teen who felt bad every time she killed a handsome tiger. That had been a few years ago. Her skillset had doubled, no quadrupled, since then. The beasts in the area were like ants she could kill without a thought.

She was here for Kingsblood, and anything that got in her way was going down.

She stayed four days in Stormwind, longer than she meant to. Once she got there her resolve to be productive had disintegrated. She'd spent the days lounging and fully recovering from her cold. On the fourth day a guild member had stopped by and informed her that her suspension was extended by another month. Marrian left immediately after the same day, too furious to stay in the city.

It was her third day in the jungle when she saw him. His horse stood a few feet away nibbling at some grass as he knelt before a bush of Kingsblood.

She'd left Truffles to his own devices a while back, allowing the gryphon a small bit of freedom, and had been skulking through the jungle hunting down the very same herbs the warrior was currently digging up.

That's how she remembered. It had been dark that time in Elwynn Forest, and she'd been more focused on the peacebloom than on the man holding it. She'd most definitely not forgotten it. It wasn't often she fought people over plants.

The past few days the rogue had puzzled over what she could possibly have forgotten, the man's incredulous "You've forgotten!" stuck in her head. Now that she understood, the desire to brag was overwhelming.

Sneaking up on him was easy, and it reminded Marrian how inexperienced the warrior was compared to her. He still had a thing or two to learn it seemed.

She made no noise until directly behind him, grinning at the man busily uprooting the plant.

"Now I remember."

Disappointingly enough, he didn't scream or yelp, but instead shot to his feet, whirling around. He came face to face with Marrian's sly grin.

His eyes flickered over her, pausing for a moment on the daggers hanging at her waist. Finally, with a sigh, he spoke. "You again."

"Didn't expect that, did you. Third time this month, and it's not even halfway over."

He considered her, "...You're in a better mood."

"What of it?" Her cheerful attitude darkened.

He feigned nonchalance, "Every time I see you you're scowling."

She scowled.

He smirked. Then it faded, and he asked, "Is this going to be a repeat of the first time we met."

The rogue blinked, slowly understanding his meaning. "It wasn't my intention to steal your Kingsblood, if that's what you mean."

The warrior relaxed slightly.

"But now that you've mentioned it-"

Before she could finish the sentence she was shoved backwards, and her feet struggled to keep up with the sudden force. Marrian couldn't believe he'd gotten the better of her. She was genuinely surprised as he hit her. It had been forever since somebody got the better of her- it was almost bewildering to be knocked down.

Regaining her footing, she whipped her head towards the warrior. She glared furiously. How dare he! "Hey! Asshole!"

He was unfazed, and stood his ground in front of the plant. "Find your own."

Too angry to answer with words, she shoved him back. He barely swayed back, and Marrian realized how much bigger he was. Being outdone in something even as unintentional as size infuriated her even more. "Don't tell me what to do!" She spat, "And don't touch me!"

He held up his hands, whether as too look harmless or to keep her at a distance, Marrian couldn't tell. To himself he muttered, "That didn't last long."

Marrian crossed her arms across her chest and glowered. "What's your name, then."

The warrior searched her expression. Her mood changes were giving him whiplash. "Theo. And you?"

The rogue considered, then answered, "Ori." It was a lie, but handing out her real name to strangers was an easy way to get yourself killed.

Both mulled over their new information; Theo, calmly, Marrian, suspiciously. They evaluated each other in a wordless impasse.

Marrian noticed Theo eyeing her daggers warily. A flash of irritation hit her as her temper rose. She said brusquely, "I told you I wouldn't stab you."

He wasn't ashamed to be caught. Slowly, he said to her, "No, you didn't."

She dismissed that truth impatiently. "Well I'm telling you now."

He nodded, and again they were staring at each other with nothing to say. To the left Theo's horse twitched it's hide, shaking off flies.

Both warrior and rogue wore a sheen of sweat, and thin beams of light snuck through the thick canopy overhead, dancing across the forest floor the breeze ruffled the leaves.

The forest hummed around them: birds cawing and chirping, raptors in the distance shrieking, panthers and tigers pawing over the jungle floor, insects buzzing.

Between the caws, shrieks, and buzzing, Marrian wondered what Theo was thinking right then. She blinked, and shook her gaze away from the warrior and towards the jungle around them. The rogue remembered her purpose in the jungle, what she was supposed to be doing instead of conversing with strange men.

It would be odd to say goodbye, the rogue decided, when they'd barely even met. She met the warrior's eye once more as she retreated. Pushing the ferns and vines out of her way, she headed deeper into the forest in the opposite direction.


End file.
